A rocket exploded in South Texas
left a reaching inferno from the base of petty worship
a god whose hand fell on no one, touched their eyes
pray in solitude, your words aren't worth it
just look for your answers in the skies,
where is your orbiting warship?

Imagine, invent and innovate on ancient lies
a better tomorrow, aim your arrows
in the machines mankind deifies
all of this squalor beyond the visible spectrum of light
is the reaction and consequence of what people decide
long to believe in nothing, demand proof by tangibility and sight
long to have faith in something, devote yourself by proxy to the discourse that causes deicide
there's always a holy something to fight, there's always satisfaction in taking side
all my cosmic gods and all ancient gods, pagan gods, all the gods of fiction and all the gods of tradition
all the minds that strive for enlightenment, worshipping education
scientists and philosophers, who are all pious in their own way
all the void and defiance, the uncertain and indifferent
launch and land and relaunch yourselves into life every day, make the most of flight before the ground interrupts your stay.

Underworld dirt; confetti in the air
urging through this dire stage
ultimately born to tilt back and stare
unable to bloom in this home, a cage
until root-sought waters soothe the age.

***** a finger on the crown and make a wish
if your blood catches the moonlight, just right, I just might
crack the golden ratio of your glass charms with a kiss
snap apart the cage between your heart and me like twigs
and since you live for your art, devour it and become one with the artist
right?

Because you sit with that glossed over look on your face, in my afterglow
I have everything you're living for, but you give me everything you're living for
then you can act devastated when you lose it all, like you didn't know
I was going to take, never return, you couldn't be anything to me, not a *****
kick you open and pry apart your dolled-up, pink brain, then smash out the windows
everything from inside-seeing is false and prettified, when I leave I take the door
you need me, fear me, hate me and revere me, but I don't ******* live here anymore
so I only come at night

Be one and I said
you can't make everyone happy
open wide and crawl outside of your head
you can't make anyone happy
stop trying, you're already dying, a man walking dead
I'm taking everything from me
to balance, I chase myself in my stead
I give nothing back, indiscernible nonsense
chicken scratch writing to keep me fed
fretting, I'm sweating, the bellows of insecurity hurriedly squealing
everything juts out, like it's designed to hurt my every feeling
these field mice I'm gathering all at once by the fistful are weeping
each skullcap on my fingers clatters and shatters, none good for keeping
the forest for the trees is never as intended
that's why the clearing he leaves is mostly open ended

He is abysmal, every principle of nihilism,
cold and seductive, seclusive and elusive
bold and eclectic, embodied allure of tasting ellipsism
his intellect, an insect, piercing and intrusive
the ego of a young and vile man,
I give him all I can
every thing that is me, flung into his kingdom
never does he ask for myself, life or limb
never do I question, would I offer them if he needs them
only do I hope that soon the stars will flee, to cover their faces
all light and rays will hide away and show no empathy
there will be nothing human to interfere, in any forms or places
and in that pitchest, voidest dark, I will finally see
the most perfect silence of the senseless, where I may embrace my throne
the absence of humanity and all its voices, where my despair may rest with me alone.

Cleanse the palate
how can Canio perform his aria
while composing a ballad
his makeup reveals his face turned pallid
tear down all the balconies; his artistic felonies
he endeavors across seas; Christ the nail and mallet
posters read of the miracle of envies,
the clamor of lyrical frenzies
spiritual withdrawal lacking wise wherewithal
silver rings raise curtains, brass and wooden strings
the song bird sings, hear my call, he collects the golden things
to his pearls he clings, see him crawl,
all the colors robbed of evening, all the beauty stolen from the dawn
shadows of pretense cast long, darkening the future, for the show must go on.

Inexorable deeds are traded
paper sins are made
greater the weight of one can turn
to many tiny stains in the path we've laid
scar and ink and burn, for all that we will learn
is reaction ingrained with experience in pain,
draw from this well knowing that the difference cannot be repaid
travel away from here in fear and we will only come back to it more afraid
seriousness devours childhood foolishness with karmic harshness
a just punishment for all the games we played
unhinged, yet, the door closes fully to allow the consciousness to fade
expel hell from view, red and weary, you...
see this lullaby alibi reality of escapism is really a place you never should have stayed.

Bring your chin to the edge of the table and roll your tongue out
flat like a dead slug, take a scraping of your taste buds
conventional speech will now be banished, puns vanish,
in conversation, dense condescension, identify by sleeve
trust isn't earned anymore, intercept all personalities as duds,
that's what you rotate in circles for, segregated communities, one cannot always deceive  
cut the scarlet letter for your disorder in the roof of your mouth if the warnings are something you somehow mismanage
don't you realize you're living with everybody's instability?

Before you're down a dead end road,
slow down and process the information overload
there's no privacy in the path of progress,
your secrets better not exist, regress, be meaningless or harmless
literal translations marked in the margins by martyrs
dancing like satyrs on their victorious gravesites, the effort a culmination, they pun-ish  
for all the good their culture does in vindictive service to selective silence, it seems remiss
that essays and humor, misunderstood wit; one misstep all they lash
dyers on hills who recolor the grit and reality of the past
censorship is a dangerous tool
ask any oppressed voice

Censorship changes history's very imagery
omits thought, will, obstacles and triumph and choice!

You are human, your nerves are raw and your heart beats like a drum
when the hand that strikes it stirs your blood, let the outcries come
poetry is unbridled in revolution, furious in chains
a brand that scars the bleary eyes behind all stifled ideas, corked within your brains
the thunder of marches inspired by speeches, the movements and power wielded by wordsmiths
sheer influence that shames Mjolnir or Excalibur, when a million speak as one, cry as one, the tears of one million are torrent rains
within the wildest eyes, brightest minds, purest hearts and kindest souls, waits this now-waning gift
for who can rightly rise in today's vast opera of need?

They call for everything all at once, who can genuinely lead?
All I can say to be honest, not certain, but true
is that thinking different isn't bad;
it's a waste of being an individual to let anyone else do your thinking for you.

In confines, comfort, intimately I confess
to me a dream does not come at nighttime,
it happens over your lifetime, you see it as nothing less
than a reality, where you've done it all right
and achieved what you could at your very best
perhaps as simple as a career, car and a new address

I see a man who owns very little, on very much land
and he spends his days in solitude, a revered calm from the ink smudged on his palm
when he closes his hand around a pen, embracing the solace reinforces his attitude
deep breaths, long hair a mess, his home open to the wind that blows a cool summer breeze
handwritten notes, each letter is an atrocity, yet he stacks pages a day with ease

The thing about him that I want more than anything he has,
is when he stops, nothing else goes through him,
and when I see him looking to me, forlorn and hopeful
I know he'd part with that for someone who needs it.

Unshaken, acknowledge the weight
unburdened, emptied gunpowder shell of hate
lips in hyper-focus replay, see: Red
crutches become umbrellas, sleep of the dead
stolen dreams from the catcher overhead
****** the precious sands of time from your bed
memories return, telescopic drills, etched in skin they said

Politicking and bartering, moral wrestling
mental positioning for emotional bracing
surgical decisions remove festering
remembrance, blinding hindsight; constant reflections facing
mistakes, real-to-life fakes, styrofoam microphone testing
screaming about hurt to the stagnant air, home replacing
where dust was resting, there's no water, the throat aches
trench-lines tracing under burning stride, puddles pooling, cooling lakes
stomping, quenching, questing, pacing, steam rolling off a rising tide
placid people, vitriolic acid in store, bakes their plastic masochistic sakes
expressions like bitters from the vine contort with every sarcastic snap they make

Steady as an island, no man, I am
my hand, untrembling
seeing this nonsense I live
persecution complex, condemned, god ******
self-aware enough to straddle sanity, go on rambling
take all of me, I have no good to give
this dense fog places six knuckles to the temple
and batters sacred walls with no hesitance
violating sanctity, shutting down anxiety
shutting out those who care for me with no reluctance
don't give anybody a chance, don't want to know safety
if it's painful just let it be

Lower your guard, let it bombard
knock you senseless, go below
laid out, sleeping limbs, dead meat
you wanna leave yourself, go be senseless
go be low.